


The Right Note

by gr8escap



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8escap/pseuds/gr8escap
Summary: Steve's memories of Bucky playing piano in late era speakeasies and early era underground clubs give him hope that the instrument and his own helping hand can bring some of the joy back for both of them when Bucky is recovered from cryo. When Bucky is reminded of stolen kisses, he can't help but think it's too much to hope for.





	1. Chapter 1

Steve made a last minute walk-through of the apartment, ensuring that everything was ready for Bucky’s homecoming. After months living in the Wakandan medical center, allowing for Bucky’s slow, healthy recovery from cryo, as well as from the removal of Hydra’s trigger words. Bucky had opted to stay in the facility for extended mental health care following advice from T’Challa’s finest specialists.

Bucky told Steve that he wanted to follow all of their recommendations, and Steve was glad to hear it, even though sometimes he felt it might be an effort on Bucky’s part to prolong being back in close quarters with him. He never voiced that suspicion, because it was a negative thought that wouldn’t add anything to Bucky’s recovery or their relationship. Suspicions aside, Steve had learned quite a bit through the joint sessions preparing them to live together.

When Bucky’s release was scheduled, T’Challa had asked Steve to provide his staff with a list of anything he and Bucky thought would make them comfortable while Bucky worked with his specialists on developing a replacement arm, taking into account the time needed for the orthopedic and neurological specialists to map out the attachment methods. “After all, the development will take time, and his recovery will add to that time.” As far as Steve could see, their accommodations were now perfect with the list of books Bucky had requested tucked into the bookshelves, and a piano on the wall opposite the wide expanse of windows.

Of course Bucky hadn’t requested the piano, that was all Steve. Back when they were kids, a day didn’t go by without Bucky playing a song or two. In fact, Bucky couldn’t walk past a piano without picking out a quick tune and it was usually hard to drag him away. Steve wanted that option available to Bucky if he were interested again.

Steve stopped at the piano, looking at a photograph of the two of them before the world had changed. He ran his fingers over the glass, touching both baby faces. Steve and Bucky as teens, stood grinning in front of a piano in one of the better clubs.

_At the tender age of fifteen, Bucky had been a damned good pianist and was in demand at several pretty seedy establishments and a few decent ones as well. That year brought in more money from tips than they’d ever imagined._

_To get in, they had to sneak in under the guise of delivering produce or other legitimate goods to whatever cover business the proprietor used as a front. Steve would sit in the corner behind the piano, either reading or watching everything, and drawing what he saw as people drank, danced, fought, and lived. They’d both successfully ducked no less than six raids. Months after prohibition ended, taking with it the necessity of the speakeasy. Bucky’s talents were called upon again when one of the owners of one of the former speakeasies opened up to a different kind of clientele._

_A singer from Bucky’s speakeasy days had hailed Steve on his paper route one day, “You’re the guy who’s friends with that piano player, right?”_

_"Yes ma’am.” Steve had said, remembering her very well from her voice and her powerful presence. He’d sketched her on many of those nights while she sang._

_"Has anybody snatched him up? Is he still playing?”_

_“Oh, yes ma’am. I mean he’s always playing, just his Ma’s piano right now for fun, he doesn’t have a gig.”_

_“Steven, would you do me a favor? Please tell him that if he’s up to making some money, I’d like for him to be my accompaniment when I perform.”_

_“I’ll do that. Thank you ma’am.”_

_And that was how they got their foot in the door of an underground gay  club; and how they both found out that ‘this feeling’ they shared was a thing that many other people felt, and not an ‘abomination’. The kind of environment where Steve had it reinforced that there was nothing wrong with loving Bucky. Those who were wrong were the ones who thought that their opinions were better, those who felt they were more powerful and loved to abuse their power. When the police raided these clubs, the men would dance with the women and they’d keep each other safe._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/14320745@N02/35341095332/in/dateposted-public/)

The text message on his phone brought him out of his reverie, “Well are you coming or not?”

Steve smiled at the demanding text message from Bucky. “On my way.” He shot back.

Their relationship was nothing like it had been in those days, and as much as it pained Steve, he was going to try to accept that being friends was ok. It was more than he’d been allowed for decades, so it was still good.

Standing at the door with his jacket in one hand and the doorknob in the other, Steve had the thought that Bucky really had a surprise in store for him if he expected this apartment to be anything like the one they’d shared before the war, or the one he’d been uprooted from in Bucharest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's memories of Bucky playing piano in late era speakeasies and early era underground clubs give him hope that the instrument and his own helping hand can bring some of the joy back for both of them when Bucky is recovered from cryo. When Bucky is reminded of stolen kisses, he can't help but think it's too much to hope for.

Bucky waited in the room that had been his home since waking from cryo, wondering what the next step was. The therapy sessions he’d been through, and the meetings he and Steve had attended were enough to inform him that technically, he was known to the outside world as T’Challa’s prisoner, but while in Wakanda he would be able to move about freely. He wasn’t about to complain; it was a much easier sentence than the life he had lived before finding himself again in Eastern Europe.

When Steve came through the door, stoic as ever, Bucky rose and moved to collect his things. Slinging the strap of one bag over his left shoulder across his body, he stooped to pick up the second, bumping heads with Steve who had gone after it as well.

“Sorry.” Bucky hurried to say.

“That was my fault.” Steve spoke at the same time, “Sorry Buck.”

“’s ok. I can take it, thanks.”

“I know you can,” Steve’s mouth turned up into a slow grin, “Thought you’d want to carry your flowers instead.”

“Peonies. Ma’s favorite.” Bucky smiled remembering. The flowers had been delivered weekly and he was pretty sure it was Steve doing the ordering, unless he’d taken up cultivating them himself. It started with a late-night conversation where Bucky was missing who he’d been, and the people who knew him. He’d talked about his mother and her favorite flowers, _“the ruffled, layered ones, the pink and white flowers that always smelled like her”, “Peonies.” Steve had nodded. “Yeah, peonies, she loved those flowers”._ Bucky had started looking forward to their deliveries. “Something tells me they’re not native to Wakanda.”

“Why? They grow in mountainous terrain.” Steve slung the bag over his shoulder, handing the vase full of the fragrant pink blooms to Bucky.

“Well, wherever they came from, they’ve been nice to look at. I hope there’s room in our apartment for these.”

“We’ll make room.” Steve offered. His earlier suspicions of Bucky’s expectations were confirmed. “The place isn’t as small as you expect.”

“We never needed much room. It’s ok.” Bucky recalled as they cleared the hallways and stepped into the elevator.

Their drive home was quiet as each considered the changes about to take place. Those times that they thought all of the therapy preparing them for this moment was excessive, now, in the back of the car that was pulling into the drive, Bucky thought maybe they both really were starting to understand their necessity. They were both going into an experience they’d never had before, yet were both very quietly internalizing expectations.

“I think you’ll like the place.” Steve’s voice pulled Bucky from his thoughts as the car pulled in front of the townhouse style apartment.

“Yeah? Hot and cold running water, and a bathroom in the unit?” Bucky asked, sliding behind Steve out of the back seat of the car provided, like the rest of his life these days, by King T’Challa.

“You don’t know the half of it. It’s at least as ritzy as your room at the center was.” Steve took both bags from the driver and leading Bucky up to the door.

Steve wasn’t exaggerating. Bucky walked through the door into a brightly lit apartment that was slightly long and narrow, but it didn’t feel like a tunnel. He stood in the entry that extended through a sitting area beyond to a dining nook, the smooth white floors dotted with plush rugs in each separate space. Bucky could imagine the kitchen was just out of view, hidden by the adjacent stairway on his left. He assumed that was where he’d find the bedrooms and the bathroom.

Steve took the flowers from Bucky after setting the bags near the sofa, he put the vase on top of a dark upright piano against the wall. “Bedrooms are upstairs, though you probably figured that out. I’m not completely moved in, so if the room I’ve been using is more to your liking…”

“I’m sure either will be fine.” Bucky interrupted.

The look on Steve’s face was disconcerting, “I hope you’d tell me if that wasn’t the case Buck. What’s wrong?”

“You. What’s with the formality? You’re not even this wound up in our counselling sessions. You’ve never been this wound up around me. Well, I guess in Bucharest you were a little tightly strung. Are you nervous Steve?”

“I guess.” Steve dragged his fingers through his hair, “I just want you to be comfortable. I know having a roommate after being on your own, is going to… yeah, pretty formal. I’m sorry.”

“I only have one concern, besides you acting all nervous. Stop that. Otherwise how secure is this place? You checked it, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve blushed and frowned. “Even though we have T’Challa’s guarantee, I couldn’t move in without checking.”

 

Bucky nodded, his lips a tight line. Steve watched as Bucky picked up one of the bags, draping its strap across his body again, before grabbing the other and headed for the stairs. He noticed as Bucky passed by it, that Bucky didn’t give the piano much attention. He tried not to be disappointed. Hearing the rustle of the closet doors upstairs, he figured Bucky just needed to settle in, Steve went into the kitchen for something to drink, and to keep busy without intruding on Bucky’s space.

That was the hard part, not following him up to lean against the bedroom door while Bucky unpacked. Laughing and joking about something. It was better to leave him to his own devices and let him seek out Steve’s company at his own pace.

Pouring a tall glass of ice water from the pitcher, Steve looked out the window over the Wakandan valley. Bucky was home. Wherever home was, they were both in the same place. What next? Steve wondered as he walked silently across the floor toward the piano. Steve considered the piano sheet music he’d collected for Bucky during his recovery, a handful of pieces for one-handed players, a few of which were classical and contemporary pieces adapted for accessibility, the rest were original compositions.

When Bucky came down, Steve was standing next to the piano, thumbing through the sheet music. Bucky turned the corner from the staircase and stopped. “You ok Steve? You haven’t moved from that spot.”

“Sure I did.” Steve looked up from the music with a distracted half-smile, “I went into the kitchen for a glass of water.”

Bucky nodded toward the piano, “You play?”

The disappointment Steve felt that Bucky didn’t seem to remember was harder for Steve than he’d imagined it would be. He looked down at the black and white keys, pursing his lips, honestly, just trying to keep his reaction neutral. “No. A little. I mean, you used to and…” Steve shrugged as he set the sheet music on the piano.

“Where did you get this?” Bucky picked up the photo of the two of them.

“A history student doing research on the speakeasy scene in New York City during prohibition found it, sent it to me with a note, and asked if I’d be able to answer some questions about our experiences. I never did get back to them.”

Steve was encouraged by Bucky’s smile as he looked at the photo, laughing when Bucky shook his head saying, “Weren’t we a couple of  dumb kids?”

“We were either brave or stupid.” Steve let hope slip through, “Do you remember?”

“You know as well as I do that the one doesn’t preclude the other. Yeah, I remember a bit. I remember this. I’m not sure I could still play though.”

“I’m sure you could.” Steve stopped himself, supposed to let Bucky find his own interests. He’d already made a big play simply by putting the thing there.

“Half-assed.” Bucky grinned, amused at himself and the joke at his expense.

“Those are pieces for one-handed play, if you’re ever interested in giving it a try.” Steve’s voice went soft, “You hungry? I have something in the kitchen that should hit the spot. It’ll take a bit to heat up though.”

“Yeah, I guess. Listen, Steve, you gotta relax. I know this is weird, _and_ I know it shouldn’t be. It never used to be, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re doing well. I’m just glad you’re home.” Steve didn’t catch the longing in his voice before it was out there in the open. He turned away, feeling he had no other option and hoping it wasn’t as obvious to Bucky.

Bucky played a glissando, sweeping his thumbnail down the keyboard and Steve turned, flashing him a shocked smile. “Don’t get too excited Steve. It’s just one old trick.” Bucky’s voice was gruff, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

“You’ve always said, where there’s one trick, another’s not far behind. You’ve always been full of tricks, both in the hall and on the battlefield.”

“That was a _long_ time ago.” Bucky picked up one of the music pieces and leafed through it’s pages, “Can’t read music. Do you remember how lazy I was about that?. I was always better plunking something out by ear.” His voice was soft as he continued, “Didn’t make ma too happy, but maybe I can do her proud and start trying to learn again.”

Steve looked to the ceiling, reminding himself of the times Mrs. Barnes had looked to the heavens herself, fit to be tied over her brilliant musical son, too busy to sit and focus on the notes. “Gee Buck, that’s right. I can’t believe I got so involved in the idea that I forgot your mother’s constant torment.”

They shared a smile, as Bucky replied. “No worries Steve. I appreciate the effort.”

“Sure, any time. Any time you want to see if you’ve got any more tricks up your sleeve, I’d be a willing audience.”

“We’ll see how I feel about playing, I mean I’ll try, maybe… I dunno…” Bucky walked away from the piano. “How about the tour?”

“Right, the tour.” Steve looked around the room, hoping to hide his disappointment in the distraction. “You know the main area, the TV is connected to any movie or channel you could want, music too. Remote control and AI access like your room at the center. Through here, the kitchen is fully loaded, and there’s a quarter bath under the stairs. Did you look around upstairs?”

“No, just found the bedroom with the bed that was made, figured you were using the other one.”

Steve smiled at the playful tone, “Ok. as long as you’re sure.”

As he opened the refrigerator door, Steve watched as Bucky walked around the dining table, looking out the wall of windows. He heard Bucky’s “Yup.” as Bucky leaned against the island that separated it from the dining nook, leaning on his elbow.

“Ok,” Steve said from inside the refrigerator as he rearranged the items he’d absently stacked on top of the baking dish.

“You cook now?” Steve turned with the casserole in his hand at Bucky’s shocked question.

“I cooked then.” Steve smiled, giving a little shrug before putting the food into the oven, “Might not have been great at it. I like to think I improved.”

“I guess it’s possible.” Bucky nodded.

“Ok. Follow me.” Steve shook his head in response to Bucky’s sarcasm. He led the way up the stairs. “You said you already found the bedrooms, the bathroom is down the hall, here’s an office that doubles as a guest room. I don’t expect to have any. We both have laptops, so I don’t know what… privacy I guess.”

Bucky looked around the office, suddenly tired, he sat down on the sofa he assumed was also a bed. “Steve, sit down, you’re wearing me out.”

“What’s wrong?” Steve sat perched on the edge of a cushion. One look at Bucky with his arm draped over his eyes and he got it, “I’m trying too hard.”

Bucky looked over at him from beneath his arm and smiled. “You’re trying too hard. It never used to be like this. I’m sorry I made it this way. I’m sorry I’m not him. I’m not the guy with the music and the grins, the jokes and the… everything. I’m sorry Steve.”

“Bucky, you didn’t. I want you to feel at home and I wanted to be sure you were comfortable. I was about to tell you how to use an office, and I… yeah.” Steve stopped to breathe, “I miss that guy. I miss who I was too.”

“Would you do it again?” Bucky absentmindedly surveyed the office.

“Probably. I’d do things differently too, if I knew what I know now.” Steve was looking at the fibers in the plush area rug under his feet. He looked up at Bucky when he laughed.

Bucky shook his head, his laugh softening into a cynical smile, “No you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t chance making things worse.”

“Shows what you know.” Steve furrowed his brow, looking at Bucky, knowing what he was saying, was going to say, was painful for both of them. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I wouldn’t have let Erskine die, and I would have kept you from falling.”

“You’ve actually thought about _how_ you would accomplish those things?” Bucky asked

“Yeah, I’ve run things through, considering all of the angles. You know, even after all of that, I can’t seem to construct a plan that would work.”

“Must mean it all happened for a reason and you can’t fix it that way. Besides, I don’t need to be fixed Steve. T’Challa’s specialists did that already. Whatever’s left? That’s for me to work out. Even with all the wiping, miraculously, I have all of my faculties. If I applied myself, I could learn to read and write music. I should warn you, by the time I do, I won’t need the one-handed pieces.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, “Shoulda figured that out as well, I guess we could donate them to a VA somewhere or something.”

“I really am touched that you thought about it and worked so hard to find them.”

Steve nodded, sinking further into the sofa, “Do you remember playing those clubs?”

“The queer clubs? Yeah. I remember. We had some scares, raids and all, but those were nothin’ compared to the ones during prohibition. You remember almost gettin’ pinched?”

“I remember cracking my head on the piano leg when you shoved me under and dove in behind me, covering the opening with one of the toppled tables.”

Bucky’s laugh was hearty, “that’s the one.”

“Remember the first time we kissed?” Steve felt his entire face heat up, and his heart hammered in his chest, he nearly bolted from the room. That was not what he’d wanted to say, that was one of the memories he was supposed to let Bucky mention on his own. “I mean, if you want to talk about it. I didn’t…”

“Which first?” Bucky interrupted, his lips turning up in a slow smile.

“What do you mean which first? We agreed to never bring that up.”

“Yeah, but I figure I’m a hundred years old now, you gotta give an old man a little leeway.” The laugh that escaped was deep and soft, “you were so aggressive.”

 

_Steve was working on an ad for the grocer when Bucky came into their place, stripped to his undershirt, and wet from the rain. Their apartment was warm and stifling, and Steve was sitting at the table, having positioned himself between the table fan and the window, which was open just a crack, in spite of the drizzle._

_“Boy I tell ya, this is the devil’s weather.” Bucky grumbled as he peered over Steve’s hunched shoulder, watching the art come to life on the page._

_“Buck, you’re blocking the fan.” Steve groused._

_Bucky pushed a wet lock of hair from his face with a smile and moved out of the way of the fan, leaning against Steve’s other shoulder, “What’s so important, then?” he asked, careful not to drip on any of the pieces. He knew the reprimand was coming as he saw the sharp angle of Steve’s jaw and cheekbones turned his direction. Steve turned on Bucky, grabbing his undershirt under his long, slim fingers, planting an unpracticed kiss on Bucky’s mouth._

_Bucky stood, shocked, but unwilling to stop him, and brought his hands to the sides of Steve’s face in an attempt to lead the awkward kiss somewhere. Misreading Bucky’s intentions, Steve suddenly pulled away, an angry shade of red crossing his cheeks as he grumbled, “Jeez, I’m sorry. Must be the heat. Making me delirious. Don’t worry Buck, I ain’t gonna tell anybody. Just don’t deck me, okay?”_

_Bucky bit his lower lip, caught between a smile and a frown as he realized two things, Steve didn’t mean the first part as much as he meant every word of the second. He’d acted hastily, before he was ready, and he was embarrassed. Bucky had been there before, and understood completely, so he just smiled, shoved Steve’s shoulder and agreed, “Yeah, let’s not talk about it.”_

_“Don’t worry. I won’t bring it up, ever.”_

 

“No, not that one.” Steve shook his head, “the real one.”

“Oh? The one in the dark? You mean the one _I initiated_ ?” Bucky smiled, “Why is it that the one that you initiated _and terminated_ has to be the one we don’t talk about? I was going to kiss you back you know.”

“You were? I thought you were pushing me away.”

“You goon.” Bucky’s smile was tender, “I was about to show you _how to kiss_. I figured you backed out, you weren’t ready. Honestly? You’da known if I was pushing you away.”

“Did you feel rejected?” Steve had - had felt rejection all those years until their _real_ first kiss - and now he was wondering if he’d inflicted the same feeling onto Bucky.

“Maybe a little, at first.” Bucky shrugged, “but I chalked it up to you bein’ nervous.”

“Of all the things for you to remember, you had to remember that.”

“I don’t get to choose, Steve.” Bucky’s smile was strained. “But yeah, I’d choose that over music. It’s _my job_ to embarrass you, and I’ve always taken it very seriously.”

“I think lunch is ready.” Steve pushed off the sofa, heading out of the room, he called back from the stairway, “You comin?”

Steve heard Bucky’s “Yeah, I’ll be right down.” as he rushed down the steps toward the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's memories of Bucky playing piano in late era speakeasies and early era underground clubs give him hope that the instrument and his own helping hand can bring some of the joy back for both of them when Bucky is recovered from cryo. When Bucky is reminded of stolen kisses, he can't help but think it's too much to hope for.

Bucky could understand and appreciate a quiet meal, but this was too quiet. They sat at the dining table overlooking the Wakandan countryside, and tucked into their food. Bucky wasn’t sure what had Steve’s jaw clenching even between bites. He thought that maybe it was talk of the kiss. He, too, was stressing over the question, concerned about Steve’s reaction to his answer. Had Steve been hoping he didn’t remember it? He pushed away from the table, leaving his unfinished lunch on the table and followed the line of windows into the living area.

Bucky let the curiosity of the piano get the better of him. Maybe music would fill the awkward silence that prevailed since Steve froze him out. The first notes coming from the piano came from somewhere deep, some far off memory. He knew he’d skipped a note or two at first but it came easier as he thought of a song he could play single-handed.

The notes coming from the piano shocked Steve as he loaded the dishwasher. All through lunch, he’d been trying to get back to the conversation, but couldn’t figure out what he was feeling. Realizing that Bucky had been about to kiss him back all those years ago, long before they’d ever kissed again, had shocked him. He wasn’t sure what made him clam up when Bucky admitted to remembering, that was what he wanted, right? Steve looked at the doorway, considering the tune and his own questions as he followed the music. That _was why_ he’d gone to the trouble of getting the music, wasn’t it? To reconnect?

Music had always been a part of them, and maybe he was trying to reignite one with the other. Secondhand embarrassment over unwittingly rejecting Bucky had caused him to backpedal, but he could fix it.

Bucky looked up when Steve slid onto the piano bench next to him and started playing, joining in seamlessly. “When did you learn to play?” Bucky asked quietly.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/14320745@N02/35341092082/in/dateposted-public/)

“Seeing pianos that weren’t being played made me irrationally upset for a while. I started teaching myself to kind of close that particular wound.” Steve continued playing alongside Bucky. He recognized Bucky’s signature intro to _The Alligator Crawl_ , and didn’t miss a note. His shoulder bumped against Bucky’s, and Bucky bumped back with a smile.

They played as though they were one, Bucky always leading into the next song with his familiar style, always clueing Steve in on what he was daring Steve to play. It wasn’t a test, Steve was as sure of Bucky as he knew Bucky was of him, at least here, doing this. He supplied the notes Bucky was missing, the pair playing as an extension of one another. That’s how they’d always been, a team. From the battlefields, to the clubs and alleyways, and at home in the bedroom.

Bucky’s smile faltered and he pulled away from the instrument, rushing up the stairs and to his room. Steve watched the retreat with confusion. He felt everything was going well, they were playing beautiful music together and they were having a good time, weren’t they? Having been through enough counselling sessions in preparation for Bucky’s return, Steve knew not to go after Bucky yet. Bucky’s withdrawal could mean anything or be completely unrelated to what they were doing when it happened. Steve focused on this reminder, it was probably something he’d nodded about during one of the therapy sessions, not expecting to understand until it presented itself. Now Steve reluctantly covered the keys and formed his own retreat to the sofa and a movie.

* * *

On his own, Bucky finished the ‘tour’ of the apartment that they’d aborted, finding the common bathroom in addition to the one in his room; and a door out to the terrace. He stepped out onto the hardwood deck, and into the fresh mountain air.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how they were so different, yet so much the same. He’d imagined the kiss question had been a positive thing until Steve bolted. It was one of the more positive thoughts, kissing Steve. It was a dream before he knew it was a memory, how could he not own up to remembering it? That was one he had clung to before seeing Steve in his apartment in Romania. How could he continue living in the same apartment with Steve if that history wasn’t what Steve had alluded to when he asked if Bucky remembered their first kiss? What if Steve was disappointed that he did remember?

In the middle of the spacious balcony, Bucky did the breathing exercises he’d learned. He pushed the doubt and regret away as he stretched, performing a bastardized version of the yoga he’d been studying, just enough to get his head straight. Loving Steve hadn’t ever been easy, the combative little punk, but now surviving it seemed impossible.

‘Living together will become strained if you don’t open yourselves up for communication.’ Bucky remembered the ‘ _you’ve been living isolated for so long - you need coaching to be around people again’_ counselling sessions.

“Fuck.” he blew out with the air in his lungs as he folded over from his seated pose, stretching and burying his nose in his knees, feeling the stretch and burn across his back. “How do you open yourself up for rejection?” If anybody were to say Bucky cried then and there, he’d call them a damned liar.

Bucky slowly uncurled and sat back on his hands before laying flat, looking at the sky. He had no real concept of time passing as he stewed in his thoughts. He watched as the sun set and stars became visible. The cool air on his cheeks and ruffling his hair was invigorating and worked wonders to lift his mood. Hunger motivated him to head back inside and down the stairs. He couldn’t contain the tender smile when he saw Steve stretched across the long, modern, and frankly, uncomfortable looking sofa with his stockinged feet hanging over the edge. He was fast asleep, and Bucky couldn’t resist brushing the hair from his forehead. “What am I gonna do, Stevie?” Bucky kept his voice low as he sat on the edge of the cushion. “We used to be able to do this talking thing. I’m sorry I’m not him. I’m even more sorry that it’s him you want, and not me.”

With a sigh, Bucky stood up and went into the kitchen to continue his mission to find something to eat, though, now he couldn’t imagine being able to. Peering through the fridge and freezer, he saw a tub of ice cream. ‘Technically, it’s mostly liquid,’ he thought, shaking his head. Maybe it would make its way past the lump that filled his chest and throat.

He pulled the tub out, finding a spoon, and settled for eating ice cream from the container while standing over the sink in the dark. He was every crying girl in every television show he’d managed to watch while trying to catch up. How did it come to this?

“Buck?”

How did he allow himself to be snuck up on and surprised? “Steve, you startled me.” Bucky frowned, “That’s new.”

“You ok?” Steve stood next to Bucky, looking out the window.

“Not sure.” Bucky set the ice cream container down on the edge of the sink. “I let you sneak up on me, I’m eating ice cream from the container, and I let time get away from me on the roof. Those are not marks of a sniper, or of somebody who is even remotely “ok”.”

“No, I guess you’re right.” Steve picked up the ice cream, taking a bite using Bucky’s spoon, “Wanna talk about any of it?”

“No.” Bucky said automatically, “But that’s not the new normal, is it? You know? I was afraid to come here. To come home with you. That’s why I went to those counselling sessions. Sometimes, it seemed like you were there _only_ because I asked. As though it were mandatory, but for me? I did it because I wanted to know how to navigate this situation.

“They didn’t really prepare me for how it would feel to walk into a place like this. Everything is so foreign. The _only_ familiar things were you and that piano, but when you looked so eager… so damned perky when I saw the thing, I didn’t know what you expected. I never really expected to play again, and you with your sheet music and puppy dog face, and your question.”

“My question?” Steve set the ice cream container into the sink, brushing his hand over the back of Bucky’s, “What question Buck?”

“You asked if I remembered our first kiss, and then you walked away. I’d rather you tell me you’re not interested in that kind of relationship, than to ask me if I remember and then retreat because you don’t know how to move forward from an answer you didn’t want.”

Bucky wasn’t oblivious to the way Steve took his hand while he ranted.

“Bucky, it wasn’t about that. I was embarrassed. Chagrined because I thought for so long you’d stopped that first kiss. I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t when it comes to you. Or so I’ve been told.”

“I thought you were testing the waters, gathering strength to tell me you felt differently now, and I’d get it. I would. I do. I don’t believe I’m entitled to having the feelings I have for you reciprocated. Not any more.”


	4. Chapter 4

Steve’s first instinct was to tell Bucky how wrong he was, but he’d done that before. It didn’t work and it wasn’t fair to Bucky. His heart was hammering in his chest, a hard and almost painful feeling that he wanted to stop. He lifted his hand from where it rested on the counter, still holding Bucky’s hand in the other, he was careful and deliberate as he lifted his hand to Bucky’s neck. Steve curled his fingers into the taught muscles there, squeezing tenderly as his eyes misted. “Bucky, we’ve been on the same wavelength, I think.”

Their eyes met, both flooded and glistening with unbidden tears.

Steve saw hope in the curve of Bucky’s lips as he asked “How so?”

The almost-smile was endearing and inviting. “Longing. When I asked if you remembered, it was as out of left field for me as it was for you. I honestly wasn’t going to ask about that, it’s one of the things I was told _not to do_ , not to prod you for memories. I fucked up, Bucky, but I don’t regret it. I didn’t ask as a means to trick you, it was genuine curiosity, and I’m glad you remembered the kiss.”

“I almost wish I hadn’t.” Bucky said quietly.

Steve blinked, releasing some of the moisture from his eyes.

“I just meant, I could use a refresher?” Bucky urged.

Steve ducked his head, laughing at Bucky’s charming smile, “You’re a jerk.”

Steve closed the distance between them, his chest against Bucky’s, his fingers tangled in the length of Bucky’s hair, curling into the silkiness. Their breaths, sweetened by the ice cream, curled together. Bucky gripped steve’s neck, freeing Steve’s other hand to join the first at the nape of his neck, in his hair. He watched for the familiar, telltale flutter of long, thick eyelashes as Steve closed his eyes, making his move.

Steve hesitated as their lips touched tentatively, Bucky didn’t withdraw, allowing Steve to explore. Bucky might not feel entitled, but maybe he would allow Steve to show him otherwise. Steve encouraged Bucky to take for himself. He licked at Bucky’s lips and Bucky moaned into the kiss, urgent sounds of longing and desire.

Steve’s lips weren’t cooperating as they fought a smile at the little noises Bucky made. Sounds of surrender and of need. Sounds, just like the piano tunes, that he’d never expected to hear again. “Bucky…” Steve sighed against Bucky’s pink, demanding lips, overwhelmed by the idea that Bucky was back. His again.

Bucky pulled away reluctantly, looking into Steve’s eyes, searching for… searching for what? Answers? Reassurance? Bucky put his hand on Steve’s jaw, “Where does this put us, Steve?”

Words, instead of kisses? Steve worked to suppress an eye-roll, linking his fingers behind Bucky’s neck. “I’m not entirely sure.” He grinned, holding back a laugh. “Definitely gives us something to tell the therapist when we check in.”

Bucky leaned his head back against Steve’s clasped hands, “You’re being difficult.”

Steve pulled Bucky to him again and rested his forehead against Bucky’s, “I know what I want it to mean, I want to explore us. How’s that? It’s bound to be complicated.”

“Really?” Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s across the tiny space between them, “Could be worth it. What could be more complicated than the past few years? This could be the easiest thing we’ve ever done.”

“Well, it _will_ be worth a shot, Buck. We’re gonna make sure of that.”

“Some first day home, huh?” Bucky chuckled, “Talk about rushing things.”

“What’s rushed? We’ve been dating for months.”

“Rogers, we’ve had institutional visitations, if that’s your idea of dating, you were _clearly not paying attention_ all those years ago.”

“I tried.” Steve shrugged. “I just meant that it’s not as though we haven’t been talking and working through things all along.”

“I know.” Bucky pressed a tender kiss to Steve’s mouth, “How could I resist poking at ya? Still, we should take our time, huh?”

“Yeah, we should do it right, You up for a movie?”

“I thought maybe we could pound a few more tunes out of the piano. See if we really do hit the right note?”

Steve stepped away from Bucky, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Aww geez Buck. That was _not_ your best line ever.”

“Did it work though?” Bucky grinned at the pained look on Steve’s face, the playful kind, instead of the familiar-of late-anguish, “Yeah, it worked.”

Steve rolled his eyes again, slowly shaking his head “I’m signing on for this? Is it too late to back out?”

Bucky gripped Steve’s hand before he could turn away, “Oh no! I’m not letting go this time.”


	5. Epilogue

Steve looked up from where he sat on the sofa; Bucky was playing the piano, testing the intricacies of his new arm following months of design and programming, and weeks of rehab from the physiological reattachment surgery. The soft notes of _You Made Me Love You_ lured him across the space. Bucky gazed at Steve through thick lashes with his lip trapped between his teeth and his silvery gray eyes bright. With a smile, Steve slid in next to Bucky, joining in at the chorus, sliding his right arm behind Bucky’s back. Bucky put his arm around Steve and, leaning against one another, they finished the song, playing together through to the end.

“You still play beautifully.” Steve looked up at the pictures on the piano that were surrounding a vase full of peonies, the two young kids inside a speakeasy; two soldiers; and the newest one, the two of them outside their Wakandan apartment before Bucky’s reattachment surgery. “Who knew this would be our story?”

“What? There's s _till_  a lot to tell.” Bucky stood up from the piano, picking up the oldest photo. “What about when we’re kicked out of Wakanda? Huh? Don’t make it sound like it’s over, just because _you’re_ getting old.”

Steve grinned up at Bucky, tugging him back down to the piano bench, “Who was it you're saying is getting old?” he asked, drawing Bucky into a passionate kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Author: [@steverogersnotebook](http://steverogersnotebook.tumblr.com), Artist: [@hechoseyou](http://hechoseyou.tumblr.com) with special thanks to [@drowningbydegrees](http://drowningbydegrees.tumblr.com) for encouraging and helpful beta work. I had a great time working on this as part of the [@capreversebb](http://capreversebb.tumblr.com) (thanks to the mods for mediation and organization)


End file.
